Fate
by ealpha-scorpio
Summary: He conquered her land with blood but his heart was conquered by her. He came to take a piece for her home but she was there to show him his home. A one shot story of a young prince going out as a young man and returning as a king.


**Author's Note:**

Hello everyone! It's such a coincidence that I was able to finish this story on the Valentine's Day! This piece was meant to be published a week ago but due to my hectic schedule I had to postpone it again and again. I had envisioned a one shot (!) AsuCaga piece for as long as I remember. And so two weeks ago I sat behind my laptop and told myself that I have to do this or it's gonna eat me! I'd been thinking about the plot for months. And so when the spark came I forced myself to put it down before its effect was gone. LOL. Once you get to read it you shall realize that my obsession for medieval theme hasn't died. There's something about this era that has always fascinated me. Nevertheless, I hope you'll enjoy this one. I'm already working on the next chapter of "Slave to Your Heart". Please leave your comments and suggestions. I'll truly appreciate it coz it helps me a great deal in improving my work. Anyways, won't take long. Happy Reading

P.S: I know…it's a long long long one shot story.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gundam SEED/DESTINY. All rights are reserved to Sunrise Studio &amp; Bandai.

**Warning: **Please be aware that this work contains sexual and violent scenes.

* * *

**"Fate"**

**By: ealpha-scorpio**

The room was strangely quiet, muffled sound of servants rushing about could be heard from the other side of the door. He stood by the full length window, his gaze fixed on the cloudy sky. It was still dark although the sun was nearing its zenith in the sky. Delicate drops of drizzle cut through the crisp and fresh autumn air, their dance hypnotic and harmonious in the gloomy sky. Thunder flashed across the sky, illuminating layers over layers of pregnant clouds in hues of gray. Together they promised a long and heavy downpour and troublesome flood across the small alleys of the citadel. He, however, felt like a hawk, standing on the highest peak of the citadel and staring down at his dominion. Rain and storm bothered him a little. He could see the young ostler running across the stone paved courtyard, holding his hand above his head to shield himself from the invisible drops.

There was a strange calm inside him, he could hear his own breathing. Flowing in and out, it left a warm cloud of moisture on the stained glass next to him. He leaned his tall and lean frame against the left frame. His temple rested gently against the window, his eyes gazing at his own reflection and through that at the vast kingdom of ORB spreading kilometers 'till the horizon. Sea of green dense forest spanned for kilometers to the west.

His kingdom.

And yet, he never thought he could ever call this place his. Ever. He loathed it. That was until he met her….

Another flash ran across the sky, brightening the citadel and raising muffled shrieks from the members of the palace. Then the rain began to pour with vigor. But he could no longer hear it.

It was a day just like this, he recalled.

The day he first stepped in this land.

The land he conquered with blood.

The land he never left.

The land he wanted for the glory of his king; his father.

And the land that he came to love.

All because of her.

He closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. It was the same smell. The smell of rich wood, wet grass, and burning wood. And it all came back to him.

_Flash back_

_The sound of horns echoed in all corners of the citadel. The sound of victory. He could hear the roar of his soldiers, gathered in the courtyard, bloodied but victorious. The war was over, it was raining outside. Too gloomy for such a joyous day. It was as though the skies of ORB were weeping for their lost soldiers and monarchs. ORB was lost to greater kingdoms. And he was here after 3000 years of Athha ruling, to take the throne and secure a new line of kings. He was the King's son. His first-born and sole heir to the throne of PLANT. ORB was the crowning jewel of all his victories in the past year. His father couldn't be anymore thrilled. The king was to visit him, where he and his soldiers were to stay and ravish the city's abundant number of women and ample amount of wealth. ORB was by far the richest and most fertile land he had come to conquer._

_And yet, he was known to be a fair prince. On his order two of his most trusted officers had been tasked to gather the members of royal family in the state room. He still couldn't understand why that room, as it was the gloomiest and the west most room in the entire palace. The curtains were deep red and heavy. The walls were mahogany and adorned with gilded frames of the former kings of ORB. He felt a sense of pity for them, but held no less respect than what he had for his own father. He pushed the thought behind. To be pitied was one thing a king never desired. Honor was what they desired. Even in death. And he was intent to ensure that._

_And so as he ordered his officers to remove the slain body of the ORB's highest men, he waited in silence to pay his respect to the grieving members of the royal family. He stared at his right hand, still holding the sharp blade in a tight death grip. The blade was still naked, streaked with blood of the last ruling monarch of the line of Athha, although he was no Athha at all. The blade had pierced his body neatly, tearing his abdomen and leaving from his back. He had stared into his eyes, and for the hundredth time he saw the face of death. And for another hundredth time he reminded himself that one day that mask would adorn his own face. _

_Blood had splattered from his victim's mouth. His blue eyes had glittered momentarily before his knees gave in. A weakling. His blue strands wet with sweat and blood were covering his face. His armor was far too glorious for a man of his skill. Yuna Roma Seiran, the last of his house and the kings of ORB. He had stared blindly at his opponent who was standing tall and strong in his gleaming sore armor. Through his helmet, the last king of Athha saw a flash of mad green. A haughty chuckle ran from his lips. He was defeated by one of the greatest. Athrun of house Zala. _

_With a small smirk still running across his face, he gave in to his fate. At least, he had lost it to the greatest._

_He stiffened as the sound of numerous footsteps approaching behind the door. _

"_My lord…" He heard Dearka announce as he gently opened the door. _

_The first two members, he was far too familiar with. Flay and Miriallia. Both ladies he had met when they were all mere children; both whose eyes were red with tears. He could not bring himself to think about the past, of their merry days in PLANT's summer palace or promises they made. As years went by their visit became less and less until a time came that they were elected as her royal highness, Queen of ORB, lady in waiting. They were young, newly married, and filled with hope. With them were now two small children. All of them were ultimately related to House of Athha. And all of them had become orphan to a father that day. Sadness poured in his heart as he stared down at their frightened faces. Their little bodies were almost melting into the two taller figures of the woman clutching them to life. _

"_Please be at ease…"He couldn't help but comfort them "No harm shall come to you"._

_Miriallia smiled sadly, but Flay's eyes flashed with hatred. How could he? How dared he? A man whom they had known for years as a friend; how could he have done this to their lives? _

"_You shall keep your possession as well as your living place. I promise that his Royal Highness King Patrick shall grant you his pardon and mercy. I shall look unto this myself." That's all he could promise._

_Miriallia gulped as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her sobs echoed in the big room. Her husband, kind and gentle, faithful to her lady and the king, was lost to a friend. Her mouth kept on chanting his name. _

_Tolle. Tolle. Tolle._

_Athrun fist his hand, calling control and restrain as his childhood friend cried so openly before him. How could they come to this? _

"_He died an honorable man," He frowned, "serving his country and his king. He shall be remembered by his family and kin as a brave man that he was." _

_He knew Tolle. Kind and gentle. Fair and just. His broke at the news of his death. He never meant this to happen to any of them. _

_Miriallia nodded in defeat and allowed Dearka to escort them out to their quarters. His face held much more sadness that his commander. Ever since they were small he had been fond of the girl. Athrun swallowed. It wasn't their fault. But this was the rule of men and war. They were to remain a prisoner in their own house maybe for rest of their lives. _

"_Escort her in" Athrun ordered Nicol who had been standing quietly by the door. His tone was hard and enraged. _

_Nicol nodded and turned hinting to an invisible person behind the door to carry his master's order. _

_The door cracked open once again. And for another time, Athrun prepared himself to recite the song of victory to the last member of the defeated house. In this case, Seiran's widow and ORB's reigning queen. His eyes were fixed on the window. The glorious flags of his kingdom once fluttering across the ORB's sky were now soaked under the rain. He heard the sound of her footsteps on the lavishly carpeted floor. And then she stopped not few pace away from the door. _

_Chest held high in pride, he turned and looked at her with cold eyes. _

_There she stood, already dressed in her mourning dress. Her black gown gloriously spanned about her, her porcelain white neck and chest were bare and empty of any kind of jewel. She was a queen in mourning. And yet her eyes were emotionless and dead. Her lips pale and but full, her face young and old at the same time. Her gold tresses was cut recklessly to her shoulders, gesturing to ORB's ancient mourning rituals of its women. And yet it took mere seconds for him to become a prisoner to those eyes. Eyes so gold and rich. He knew he would give the world just to make her look at him again. That he would never be rid of those hunting eyes._

_But she was no longer looking at him. Her eyes lifeless and beautiful were cast on the carpet. Her eyelashes shadowed them away to his discontentment. _

_She was silent. Waiting for him to pronounce his verdict about her fate. Her hand rest gently before her as he recited her, her rights as the remaining survivor of the house. He could feel his mouth repeating the words he had pronounced for the fifth time that year, stripping her of her right to rule or claim anything. But he couldn't hear himself. He felt his heart hammering madly beneath his armor. _

_He couldn't believe himself. No one would believe what he felt inside. _

_As his words ended, he watched her shut her tired eyes and nod. Bending on a knee, she made the most graceful courtesy that she could manage in midst of her predicament, and left silently without uttering a single word. _

_And what he felt as she left the room was pain, shame, and more agony. He had made her a widow at the peak of her youth. The urge to go after her and plead forgiveness was hard to resist. Seiran's face was to hunt his hours and days that were to come. He didn't see her again on that day and many days after that. But deep inside he wished he could cross path with her. Nonetheless he knew that wouldn't be possible. She was his prisoner for life. _

_As the night approached the torches were lit one by one. A banquet was prepared. The long oak tables of the great hall bent heavily under the weight of the ORB's finest harvest and roasted boar, geese, and beef. The smell of food and sound of harp had erased any memory of the bloodshed hours ago. As he sat there at the head of the grand table, he watched his men absent mindedly as they treat themselves to ample amount of rich wine and dozens of ORB's most beautiful women who had given themselves to greater lords. How easy life changed masks. Its façade volatile and betraying. He was sad. His mind flew across the hallways at the east wing, where the enduring members of royal family were left heavily guarded to deal with their loss. Their king and knights had been buried quietly that day, left to time to erase all memories that was of them. As though they never existed. This was the law of men and war._

_Dearka and Yzak seemed unaware of their unusually quiet lord but Nicol was never one to miss it. He knew his lord far longer than any other one of them. From corner of his eyes he saw him casting carful and thoughtful look toward the stony stairway. His face was adorned with his graceful smile but his gleaming eyes leaped into the depth of the darkness that bathe the hallways of the east wing, where the air sank in sadness and grief._

_The king arrived in forth night. Beside him rode his queen, beautiful and gentle as the morning's breeze. Her serene blue eyes, vividly filled with happiness, gazed upon the highest towers of ORB as their convoy approached the iron gates of the city's holdfast. By then the autumn's sun was shining brightly once again. Her lips were curved into a smile and her eyes were wide in anticipation. It had been over a year since she last saw her son. Her one and only child. _

_He stood there in full armor, holding his helmet beneath his left arm, as his right hand rest upon the hilt of his sword. His cloak, red as blood, float gloriously in the autumn breeze. He was a beautiful man. One who had already stolen hearts in the lands he had conquered. The father and son greeted each other with utmost formality. It was always business for them. He bent and kissed his mother on cheek and she couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks. No one could deny her being the happiest woman in the kingdom in those moments._

_They spent the remainder of the day indoors at the banquet prepared for them. Talking and plotting. Laughing and drinking. The sound of Lute flew weightlessly all throughout the palace. ORB was their last and greatest victory. What remained now was the management of their expended territory. The king's decision the morning after did not surprise anyone. In the gathering of the great lords, he announced the fate of each of the prince's young officers for the rest of their lives. A political marriage was always the best remedy to tighten the bonds and evade unrest in future. No questions were asked, no complaints were made. _

_The prince however seemed the only one left without a foreseen fate. Standing deeply silent and aloof all throughout the ordeal, he seemed indifferent to the entire event even when the crowds' excitement began to rise at the prospect of more festivities and banquets. When it was announced that he has the pleasure of choosing a wife from a selected group of eligible ladies of ORB and Zaft, the state room washed with excitement and noise. All eyes were on the young prince. But he remained motionless and solid in his place. The queen eyed him worriedly as the king began to call on the names of the eligible ladies. Meer, the king's cousin first born; Meyrin of the house Hawke, her royal highnesses lady in waiting, Marina…. It happened like a flash. The prince on his feet, facing his father and demanding one thing that shocked the entire court and his kinsmen. _

_He wanted the Seiran's widow!_

_The queen turned pale. The king was stuck still gazing at him in utter shock._

"_That is not possible!" He whispered "I will not allow this"_

"_Athrun!" The queen could only manage a whisper._

_The prince's brow tangled, "She is whom I want!" he uttered and pursed his lips._

"_Have you lost your senses completely?" The king snapped._

"_She is eligible, just as any other women whom you've called. She is THE queen of…" _

"_An overthrown queen…" The king interrupted._

_Athrun got quiet, deeply bothered by the picture his father produced of her. _

"_My word is final!" he whispered and head for the door. _

"_Athrun!" The king commanded._

_He stood still without turning._

_The court was still. Silent breaths held in chests._

_The king eyed his queen seeing it unseemly to contend before the crowd. They both were thinking of one thing. _

_Cagalli. _

"_We shall demand her audience. And hear her say in this" The king announced, "She's been a widow for less than a month…"_

"_Which I never thought was of any concern till now." Athrun retorted, "Her say in this or status are no concern to me. She shall be my wife and no other." Athrun replied and bowed to leave._

_They knew very well they cannot change their son's mind. The widowed queen was escorted in with four fully armored solider near sunset. _

_The court stood there in a dead silence, seeing the family divided for the first time. The prince sat next to his parents, seated beside the throne of ORB, and once again was lost in the view outside the window. When she entered, the members of the council held and released their breath at the same time. _

_There she stood, alone in middle of the grand state room. Demure and all in black. Thin and fragile. Her inquisitive eyes were on the king and his wife. Her eyes, tired from many sleepless nights, studied them with many silent questions. She did not look at the prince. Her eyes were pinned to the most powerful man in the room, all the while unaware of the power she possessed in resolving the kingdom's greatest dilemma! _

_But the queen knew instantly that they had lost the battle this once. The softened and anxious look in the eyes of her son was enough to tell her that she was facing her future daughter-in-law. The stiffness of his shoulder, the breath caught in his chest. In his eyes was an eternal flame burning in heart of an emerald. No one could kill the gold in his eyes. The petit queen was to be their salvation. _

_But could she reciprocate his feelings?_

_Yet, that was never a question. It was never a concern as far as an arranged marriage was concerned, but suddenly Lenore wanted someone who could genuinely love her son! Her heart clenched in sadness._

"_You have been called here to aid resolving an inconvenience today!" The king announced visibly displeased._

_The young queen blinked quizzically. _

"_My son has selected you to be his future wife." He pointed dejectedly at his son. _

_Her eyes turned to the prince and their eyes locked momentarily. Her face was void of any emotions. He still wanted her. She was his mystery to solve. Her life, her silence, and demure presence. This unfitting match. He couldn't understand why her. She couldn't understand why her._

_And for the first time he heard the melody of her voice, "My late husband, was not of my choosing, this shan't be any different my lord…" her voice cracked as her eyes welled with tears but from its depths raged a hidden courage, "till this day I grieve the loss of my father, and the loss of my land to lesser kings! If this shall save my land from the savagery then I shall submit with all my heart."_

_There was an unease in the crowd. Few shouted in fury, asking her to be expelled from the assembly._

"_Let her speak!" Siegel Clyne, the king's counselor, spoke out, calling for order, "she deserves a chance to be heard." _

_Siegel was thoughtful, eying the prince and weighing the opportunities that they house could earn from this unexpected union. Marrying a widow was not customary in the house of Zala. They were known for centuries to be selective and careful. The king had been particularly meticulous in choosing the right blood. He had been deliberating on the potential of many great houses for a union ever since Athrun was a small child. _

_House of Athha had never been considered. ORB had never seen eye to eye with PLANT. But if Cagalli was to be united with the young prince in matrimony, arguments about the purity of her blood would be futile. The queen was the direct descendant of the line. It could work, with a little cajoling with the king. ORB was rich and fertile, so was its queen. She was at the peak of her youth and in an ideal breeding age. If they were to secure ORB this would be the tightest bond they could make to ensure steady flow of wealth pouring into PLANT. _

_Siegel eyed the queen, whose support he always received. However before they could react the prince had gone to his feet._

_Everyone stared at the prince in surprise as he joined the golden haired queen. Standing next to her he faced his father, "With your blessing father I shall be taking her as my wife. Her fate I shall decide, my future I shall decide."_

_The king didn't respond. The queen held onto his arm, looking sadly at this son. Siegel nodded to the king. It had to be her or they would have to face a future without an apparent heir. Athrun was famed for his solitary and women-less life. They could argue about this later._

"_There must be another way…" The king objected._

"_My lord…" Siegel urged, "Perhaps we can deliberate on this matter more closely. There are potentials to this union. She is still an Athha…" _

"_My king" Athrun spoke out, his face determined but soft, "…I shall be leaving for the next camp knowing that she is my wife." But his eyes were mostly cast on the king's counselor asking him silently to support his ground._

_Siegel closed his eyes momentarily and nodded briefly before taking a deep breath, "We should deliberate the matter carefully but promise nothing" he eyed the king._

_Cagalli stared at him in shock. Why? She asked herself. What did the prince see in her? Here he was beautiful and celebrated wanting a widowed woman like her? A fallen queen of all. _

_Seven days later, for the second time in her life, she stood in another magnificent white gown under the autumn's morning light. Her dress spanned across the aisle in alluring grace illuminated by multitude of colors reflected from the stained glasses of temple. Her petite frame had been fit with the finest silk from PLANT. Her temple and neck, delicate and white, had been fashioned with the largest diamonds anyone had seen. All tokens from PLANT's rich mines. She was beautiful yet simple beneath all those glamorous decorations. The Members of the ORB and PLANT's supreme council and the king and queen stood surrounding them. It was the first time they were all standing under the same roof and facing one gaol. It was a historical milestone in both nation's political relation. But her soul screamed to be freed. She didn't belonged there. She never belonged there. To this stone walls and stained glass windows. Beautiful was her golden cage. She numbly watched the prince lift her cold__ hand in his and slide a single ruby ring down her finger. How strange that a ring could bind lives together. She stared at it with much indifference and waited for him to lift her veil and kiss her for the first time._

_He lift her veil gently but did not bend to kiss her. Instead a warm and relieved smile crept across his lips. _

_She was his._

_She listened to the sound of the men and women of court. Hailing His Royal Highness and his new bride. She felt sick to her stomach. _

_In the feast that followed the nuptials, she barely touched her food. Her world had ended when her father passed and when the ORB's council decided on one thing to save her house, to marry her off to the one of the most influential houses in ORB. The house of Seiran. She loathed her husband from the beginning. In matter of days he and his father took the reins of power and changed the course of ORB's history forever. Her heart broke into pieces every single day for next two and a half years as she witnessed her land in hands of those she found unworthy to rule it. _

_And then he came, conquering their lands like a plague, leaving trail of blood and war in every village and town he passed. It was an irony, as how her husband died by his hands, and how she was married off to their conquistador in mere weeks. Just like what Seirans did to her after the death of her father. She couldn't decide whom she loathed most. _

_Throughout the night she stole small glimpses of his perfect and calm visage from the corner of her eyes. Her husband. And little by little she began to absorb the notion of what had happened in a week. From being the queen of ORB to becoming the future empress of the six united kingdoms. All because of men that were related to her. It terrified her more than the thought of bedding with him!_

_As the hours approached the vital time, her heart began to beat madly in her chest. And then they came, a group of merry youth, lifting the prince and his bride as they sang in chorus. They were dressed in white, their hair adorned with flowers. They carried the smell of spring and youth. The guests cheered and drank to the young couple as they were carried out their quarters. Their escort's shout of happiness roared across the hallways. _

_A storm was approaching, its thunder flashing across the dark skies, but the fireplace seemed strong and warm in midst of the ever growing chill. Winter was coming. Her new bedchamber was designed according to PLANT's customs and traditions. It was decorated with rich furs and purple satin. It was lavish, comfortable, and warm. They deposited the couple at their new quarter, shut the door behind them with a loud thud, and left to fantasize and story tell about their bedding. It was one thing that a high or low born shared greatly in common. _

_Outside was filled with life. The sound of the girls' giggling and boys' excited howling echoed in the passageways, making the most reserved members of the palace want to melt to the ground. Inside the room, however, the atmosphere, was heavy and silent. They knew they would be watched by the king and queen at one point in night. To ensure the consummation of the marriage, and ideally the conception of an heir. No one wished to cross the king after the kindness he had shown to his son. Not even Siegel. It was the greatest favor he had given to anyone._

_The prince walked across the room to the nearest seat, rest himself in the most comfortable position, and watched her against the sole source of light in the room. _

_She began to undress herself shakily, in ORB it was customary to have two helps to assist the bride. But she was and was not in ORB tonight. PLANT's traditions were different. Her hand cold and sweaty began to shake uncontrollably at the prospect of what was about to happen. She took off the dress slowly, standing in the cold air in nothing but a thin silk dress. Her body shivered from the chilly gust of the wind that was penetrating inside through the great window. Her body was full and shapely beneath the silk dress. She blushed profoundly, finding herself helpless beneath his gaze. He stared at her, studied her but did not move. His eyes were kind unlike what she expected. But his mouth did not speak any words. _

_She did not know what to do and after moments of uncertainty she approached the bed and slide under the thick blankets. Her eyes filled with tears, she bit her lips to choke back the sobs. She waited for her bridegroom to join her in their bed, but no sound of movement came from his direction. Moments passed into hours, she fought the urge to look. He was still seated, unmoving and looking at her frame beneath the covers. That is how she fell asleep. Frightened and lonely in midst of the stormy night. Her wedding night. She wished she would never wake up again. _

_She rose an hour after sunrise. The storm had come and gone, so had the prince. And suddenly her heart washed with relief. Miriallia and Flay brought in her meal and her dress for that day. Today was her first day as a free woman once again. They accompanied her, talked to her, and comforted her. They had been married off to their new husbands. They told her about their lives but nothing could sooth the idea of another fearful night for her._

_But he didn't come that night, and the nights after. Yet, he never failed to visit her throughout the day, usually with utmost formality and respect. And deep inside she began to think if he had married her to repay her loss. He would talk to her, ask her about her activities for hours, and listen to her carefully. And of all things he never failed to bring her gifts, usually her favorite things. Miriallia was forgiving and compassionate with the prince, so she took upon herself to help making her lady a little happier. She would openly advise the prince on the most fitting gifts he could offer his new bride. And the little queen couldn't reject his courtship when all he gave her was respect. _

_A week later he came to her to bid his farewell. He was to spend the remainder of the year in camps at the northern borders of ORB. The Northman were the last of the resistant in ORB. Once defeated the kingdom was to be united under PLANT. As much as she wanted to sound concerned she could manage no more than words of understanding and acceptance. _

_He left, but everyone saw the last look he cast at his wife. The look of sadness and love. Her heart clenched at her inability to reciprocate anything even remotely care towards him. _

_Weeks turned to months, and ORB began to embrace itself for a rough winter. Her days were filled with little activities and mostly with children and people. She didn't fail to resume the old custom of talking to her kinsmen. With war they had forgotten how it like was to have the little princess walking about their shops and talking about little important things. But she was there again, turned into a woman, helping them prepare for months of cold and little food. She together with her land began to heal again. Everyone saw it. Her smile came back. The warmth in her eyes grew in the chill of the air as autumn gave way to winter. Until rumors began to reach the capital of the troops of many soldiers returning to the city. There was no promise as to when they arrived, but the court was prepared to welcome its new master and his officers. _

_It happened suddenly in wee hours of morning as first snow had begun to fall. The sound of hoofs, armors, and men echoed in the courtyard. The men were cold and hungry. The maids and servants rushed outside to aid them in. The prince dismounted his horse and released it to the nearest servant he could find. His face was hard and incensed. _

_They heard the sound of his footsteps, his armor clanking as he walked toward the queen's quarters. His aides surrounded him as he walked, trying to loosen the fastenings and remove his armor as he paced across the hallways. He barked at them when they hurt him, and when the final piece came loose he walked passed them without his usual words of gratitude. The aides stood still, surprised at their master's troubled manner. Never had they seen him in such state._

_She jolted up in fear as he pushed open the door. Shutting the door with all his power, he stood by the entrance. His face and hair were wet and pale from cold and snow. She gingerly slide from beneath the warm comfort of her bed, her reaction involuntary and out of pure instinct._

"_Athrun?" she muttered. Calling him by his first name for the first time. In her mind though she had thought of many ways to call him. And had spent many hours thinking of a nicer way to address him. But his name came like an instinct. She had never thought of calling him by his name. So intimate and so informal. _

_He breathed deeply and walked toward her before she could utter another word. Fisting his hands in her gold locks, he crashed his mouth onto hers. She winced frightened, and fought to push him away; but his hold was strong and rough. He deposited his weight onto her as he pushed her back against the bedding. His hands cold and scratched hiked up her gown. She wailed and winced at the contact. But he paid no heed. They both knew she would not win this fight. _

_And so, as she fought, he took her. He was rough and un-gentle. Unlike what she had come to know him. She cried and screamed, but no one came to help. No one dared to help. He was the master of the house. The sole ruler of the house and her lord._

_He tore her dress, taking her over and over again, as she continued to scream and wail, until her tears were dry and her throat burning. And when he was through he sat back, his muscles flexing and glittering in sweat. She lay before him bare and broken. Tears once again began to pour freely down her cheeks on the bed sheets. His gaze was on her face, his eyes were deeply sad and sorrowed. _

_He reached out his hand turned her body and kissed her nape. His fingers bore into her flesh. She didn't fought anymore and allowed him to take her again. When he was done for another time, he rest his face in crook of her neck. And then she felt it. Warm tears, not hers own but his. _

_She wiggled and this time he didn't resist to keep her. She turned to face him, and without understanding why she cupped his face and gazed into his eyes. Her slim fingers tangled in his long strands. His brows knotted together as more tears sprang from his eyes._

"_Nicol is dead!" and he sobbed like a child. _

_She held him close to her not understanding why. To lose someone ... She knew the pain, not so long ago. So she kissed him, embraced him, comfort him, and loved him. _

_No one disturbed the couple the morning after. The young prince did not report to his duties for next two days. He remained in the queen's quarters. They could hear the sound of their love as they remained there day and night. _

_The king, despite of his discontentment at Nicol's untimely death, seemed happy to have had his son consummating his marriage as it had become a great concern for the court. After that day all eyes turned to the young queen. They were waiting for the signs and it came one snowy day when she finally kneeled down, held Miriallia's hand tightly, and emptied her breakfast on the dirt beside a road to the palace. Dearka, her bodyguard, and now Miriallia's husband, towered behind her, and as soon as her legs gave in he lifted her up and carried her to the safety of the palace. Athrun was absent for many hours but the news of her illness made him cut short his trip to the Citadel's Holdfast. By the time he reached her quarters the news was already out. The queen was with a child. _

_He kissed her, cherished her, and loved her more. As her body changed her temper began to rise. He found her amusing, knowing that different side of her. She scowled at him, scolding him for bringing this down on her, but couldn't resist the little treats he brought her to sate her cravings. _

_The court was patient with its queen, happy as her young body had become with a child so soon. It rose many questions in mind of her closest confidants, as why she had not been able to produce an heir during her three year union with Seiran. There were speculations as whether she had consummated the marriage with her late husband altogether. Nevertheless, they listened patiently, not minding the hassles of impossible things she demanded. She was young and fertile, becoming pregnant within weeks was extremely ideal. _

_Eight days after his twenty eight birthday, his son was born in an autumn night. The wind was blowing once again, it had been a year since he conquered these lands. The queen's screams of pain made everyone at still and anxious. It had taken a day. Her labor was hard and long. Athrun paced around madly, he had been locked out her quarters. He was upset at everyone and had suspended all of his activities to base himself near his wife. _

_When the squeal of his son was heard, he banged the door with might and demanded entrance from top of his lungs. Miriallia opened the door and gave way as he rushed past her. _

_Mana frowned, scolding him like a little child. She, old and wise, was the only person who did not fear the prince or his wife. And she alone, to Athrun and Lenore's amusement, was the only person in the entire kingdom who had infuriated the king countless time and escaped his wrath in the end. No one knew how she did it. But this little woman was a fierce cat when it came to defending her keep. In this case, was the queen, whom she had raised from infancy. The king, in spite of his obvious annoyance by mere mention of her name, had tasked her to aid the petite queen in birthing the future heir. No one again knew why!_

_The look on his face erased all lines of anger from her wrinkled face. His anxious eyes were glued to the little bundle in her arms. And so the old woman passed the newborn this father, holding back the tears as father and son looked at each other for the first time. _

"_He's a fighter…strong and healthy! Gave his poor mother a tough time…" she chuckled. _

_In the dim light of the room, he searched his son's face, walking gingerly towards the fireplace for a better look. And there he saw it against the playful flames of fireplace, the flare of gold and fire in his eyes. He kissed his dark locks and nuzzled his face to his. The boy squealed and stared up at him with wonder. It was then that he cast a look at his wife. Lines of pain and tiredness were still visible on her young face. He sat by her bed, holding his son and guarding his wife. He was the happiest man in the kingdom._

_There are few in world who wish to do the same if they were given the chance to rewrite their fate. But he would kill over and over again until he was back to where he saw her for the first time. In his dreams he saw himself back in the battlefield, raging with strength but always fearing of not getting to the end, where she was standing in her black dress at the heart of the walled city. There were nights he would jolt awake in sweat, searching wildly for her beside him. But she was always there, sleeping soundly curled up next to him. He would listen to sound of her breath and the little gurgles and noises his son would make from the nursery right next to their bedchamber. The queen did not wish to be apart from her infant son which was a relief to him as their proximity gave him peace. The war had made deep scars in his soul, scars that only the light in his son's eyes and Cagalli's warm smile could heal. It would take years. _

_Two months later, at the presentation of the infant prince, in the same grand state room,_ _Athrun stood tall and proud beside Cagalli as the King and Queen arrived to visit the additional member of their family. The king, so pleased at sight of his grandson, had asked for little queen's audience for the remainder of the day. But she kept his company for the remainder of the year. Until a day came when he granted her audience in the PLANT high council's meeting. Hence she became a constant member of the council, always sitting next to her husband and overseeing ORB's interests, even when she once again became heavy with child._

_The twins were born two years after on a cheerful spring day. Mana was mad again, this time at the young queen. Her labor had only lasted for few hours and before dusk both babes were born in a pool of water. _

_Mana called it disgraceful! To give birth to such important kids like a horse! And there the two had begun bickering while Athrun and the toddler prince stood stuck still. Miriallia brought the babes to meet their father and brother, she was visibly upset by queen and her caretaker's bickering. _

_It was Athrun who ended it. Commanding the old woman to give way for the mother and children to be united. Cagalli's face softend at the sound his voice. She reached out and held his hand. He bent and kissed her temple, "Thank you!" he whispered against her skin. And as always she knew what he meant. _

_For giving him his children, for securing his line, for being the mother of his children, for forgiving him, for giving him a chance, and for letting herself fall in love with him. _

_The twins had a touch of gold on their fuzzy head. But their eyes were an eternal pool of green. They melted in their mothers' arms. And Cagalli couldn't help sobbing at the innocent look of their faces. Another boy and a girl. Her little kittens. She would be bringing them happily to the streets of the capital. For her people to see her pride._

"_Thank you!" She muttered to Athrun. And they both knew for what. For giving her a chance, for giving her her children, and for giving her hope._

_There were nights he would stand alone on the edge of the holdfast, gazing into deep darkness wondering what would've been like if he had not conquered this city. It was fate. And he bowed his head to its might. Looking into the sky, he thanked the gods for twisting his path and leading him to the iron gates that had hidden her away all these years. If he had known her sooner, maybe he wouldn't have shed so much blood in his path. But he could never know nor would wager on that. His wife had been given her lands to rule, a right that the king had granted her after birthing three children for the throne. He too was soon to take over the throne of PLANT. But deep inside he knew things were taking a different path. This was his house and he meant to stay. He would bring Cagalli. If only for months and they would be back again._

_ORB was his home._

_End of __Flashback_

It had been an hour since he began standing there in corner of the room. He jolted out of his thoughts with the sound the door cracking open. Miriallia smiled and bowed.

"Her Royal Highness has arrived…"

Athrun stood upright, "Where is she?"

"Here my lord" she smiled the open the door widely to give way to her lady.

He held his breath feeling nostalgic and overwhelmed at the same time. It had been months since he saw her. He had left a prince and returned a king. The proceeding had been so fast he had not been able to bring his family. When he arrived at his childhood manor, his father was already gravely ill. The rule of the council was clear. Within seven days the members of the council had asked for his audience. And as he stood there alone in middle of the cold marble hall, they granted him the throne of the PLANT in unison. His father seated with all his effort at the end of the hall had nodded his head. Accepting his place and turning over his power to him. Patrick had little to worry about. The prince had been prepared for this moment all his life. But he couldn't stay. Without Cagalli and the little children near him he could not function. And so he had returned with his men. Leaving the lush fields of PLANT behind and trusting his estate to Yzak and his house to look after until his indefinite return. His mother had bid him farewell with so much tears, deep inside knowing her son had taken another place called home in his heart.

The king and queen stood feet apart facing each other. Both were dressed ceremonially. He could not recognize her under that many layers of gold beaded dress and jewelry. She nodded and bowed. This was her first time meeting her husband after his ascension as a king. His beautiful face was now overcome by layers of fine silk and leather. She searched his eyes trying to look for her husband, and in the depth of her eyes he saw desperation and loss. He reached her in few strides and took her in tight embrace. His mouth was warm against hers. Tears rolled down her cheek.

"Athrun" She whispered. Calling…searching for her husband.

He reached and pulled the gold tiara off her hair. Gold tresses fell around her face, and he saw her again. Found her again. His little queen. And he smiled.

"I'm home"


End file.
